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I've known an extraordinary lady,



                'Cause I wrote poems in HP,

                                                        Well, I thank HP a lot,
                                                That I have the opportunity,
                                       To know a person like her!

                And found out  we have the same nationality,

Not only that, she write these exceptional and amazing poems!!

          I was overwhelmed!

                And blithesomely chatted her,
                            She replied,

We have a good talk,
                 I was so broken into splinters those times,
             I could hardly remember the throe,
        But her words glare brightest in my heart,



She inspired me,
         With the hurting truth,
                   Well, I knew truth hurts,

Then we always chat,

    We exchange phone numbers,

                 And texting even not in HP,
'Cause I knew she is so much busy,

But I'm still texting her telling,
                     "I'M SO GLAD TO BE Your FRIEND."
And that,
"Ohayou Gozaimasu, konnichiwa & konnbanwa"
             "Kiotsukete kudasai Roan-chan!"

Oh yeah!
           We love Japan, and their language,
                 That made me love her even more.
                       (Love as friend okay?!)


    We exchange google+ & fb,
        And saw her angelic face,
            Scattering over her timeline,
                 I saw a beautiful soul,
                       Dancing and gleaming inside of her,


      She's indeed a very good friend,

                             When I have heartaches and tribulations,

                                     I share her my pain and sorrows,

She's like the sun in the noon time,
                  Heating me up with her love and care,


                    But even though I have not met her personally,
                I knew for sure that I'm so much blessed,
            To know such a golden spirit,
                              Such rare being in the amidst,


And I do knew,
                             That God will lead us together,
                         To spend time personally as friends,


Together with Ma'am Sally,

                        As what she told me,
          "We should have this ~poetess date~ "


How I long for that day!



I really pray to God,

                      That He will give you,
                         The best of the life,


   Give you good health,
          To continue enjoying life to it's fullest,


To have many more birthdays to come,
                 For you to see more,
      Of the beauty of God's creation,


                            And to find,
                     That very right man,
            That your heart longs to find,
                For quiet elongated time.


I pray also,
          That you will remain,
                 To be light to all people,


            And be that very good friend,
Everyone longs for,



In this beautiful day,
                   I pray you will be the happiest person alive,
                            And celebrate this marvelous day,
                                          God had given you.

      "Maligayang Kaarawan Aking Kaibigan."




                          © Earl Jane
                            ♥ E.J.C.S.

She leaves me
with secret flowers

each has
a broken heart

and purple petals
for me to hide

and memories
I can't ....

Hold my hand and let me see
Let me feel I am not alone
Let me know I have someone beside me
Let me realize sadness will soon be thrown

Hold my hand and dance with me
Let me play the music of our love
Let us sway and let us be
Like cotton clouds dancing up above

Hold my hand until forevermore
Hold my heart with love that I adore...

these are the days that try mens souls
said oliver twist to L'ouverture
and the big crisis is coming
its time to get running!
the british are coming!
"O' quiet ye olde buffoon!"

what's next? I dont know
said gandalf the gold
whose sincere grin forever faded...

he looks outside the kitchen door
the sand men made sure
the sun wont rise any more

it also rises
nevermore...

Tall prairie grass, wind-swept and
burnished gold, whispers with the
long-dead voices of all who passed
on this trail in their dream voyage
to Oregon, or California, or who
died, disease-ridden, exhausted, to be
buried just off the rutted trail
under a lonely stretch of sod
or cairned atop a barren lava bed.

A bone-white wagon tongue,
its carriage long ago disintegrated
and fallen into splintery planks,
laps thirstily at the dry sod along the
edge of the trail, finding only
parched earth and no water, burrs
and beetles instead of hydration.
More prairie than desert but still
more a place to leave behind, only
insects, lizards, hawks and the curious
chickadees seem to make it home,
this dusty stretch of history.

Hawks hover, then spiral effortless
high above, as they did so many years
ago, dark against a soft patchwork
of azure blue sky and creeping clouds.
The occasional click of grasshoppers
is barely audible in the billowing prairie
grass shaken by the incessant wind.
Dry bones of beasts and luckless humans
hug the edges of the trail, mute testimony
to the brutality of the westward rush
and the following of the Oregon Trail.

--

While the bud butterflies melt their wings
Within the light red poppy chain,
The pink-gray clouded, sad sunset rings.
In this lost sky, the sun's light vein
Is almost thrown in a ****** rain.


The leaving sun abandons the sky
For the moon, and in the cricket crawl
The leaves of the oaks whisper 'good bye',
While the coming night has a dark shawl.
She looks at the stars with a black eye.


The sun and the stars find synergy,
In the regolith on the moon,
But with helium fusing energy,
This moon looks like a big balloon,
Or like a fragile, silky cocoon.


And like those thoughts enveloped in words,
Or like angels carrying their pure love,
Are the Feathers of the Holy Birds
In that rain dropping the divine globes
On the strong souls needing love rewards.


Any epistemological sphere
Is pouring up to the Holy Book,
Or is falling down to disappear.
The reverse arch gets a killer look.
Tries to provide fragrance of fear.

The fluid, wicked waves draining in sight
On Earth to meet at infinity
Are like the dark rays in the pure light.
Light rays are arches of Trinity,
While dressed in wind seems to be the night.

Stars are candles and night lights them all,
The colors withdraw in the last light.
In the black darkness, they look so small.
The dream seeds germinate for a fight,
Becoming real while breaking their wall.

© copyright Marieta Maglas

~~
Those might have been told in any other way
but you could not understand
No, No this is not a spring song
Not even a fairytale

An exclusive secret,
a pain which originates within a love,
reverberates with the rebel song,
within your known sky, wind

Naturally has seen in dreams
Rarely meets with the real
Crops of thousand wishes,
As the Vinci's Mona Lisa

Truly forms in nature
which has a vitreous luster
As the Crystal of Sapphire blue
where the beauty beyond

Of the words mystery unveiled,
yet the fascination of the Poe's uncovered poetry,
As the fathomless depth of Mid Atlantic ridge,
which goes a long way

Tastes like the first kisses of love
which is full of longing
where whole life is covered with dissatisfaction,  
within the prospect of ever known

Like an old wine
where levels of alcohol is too high
After spreeing over the night,
Still hanging in,
Even after taking the morning black coffee
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

aingeal,
Mine blood pressure when thou art near rises, not from anything bad, just a simple fact thineself maketh me tremble at thy beauty and at thine own angelic aura that surrounds thee. Thou art heaven to me, for when I looketh into thy cosmos iris, I canst seeith all creation pinpointed to a marvelous canvas portrait, and it maketh me cryeth......... Not a sadly cry, not a hurtful cry, a cry because all the grace I canst seeith in that iris, is as if God hath sent michelangelo in the core of thy lid's to showeth me a piece of heaven I've never known couldst exist here on a planet that's been ruined by it's own kind, disgustingly!!!! And looking into those michelangelo eyes of thy own, I canst seeith so much refinement and artistry, and so much love they giveth off to me, as something I've never known, I was looking into an iris of an aingeal, and thou art mine one and only aingeal sent from God to me, as I to thee...  What a blessing underserved!!!!

©By-Brandon nagley (Lonesome poet's poetry)